Chapter 749

10:15 AM; Ōtaku Police Station Conference Room

The conference room wasn't large, a long table, a dozen or so chairs, and at this moment they were already filled with people.

Supervision Officer Kinoshita and Police Sergeant Kishimoto sat on one side, Public Prosecutor Kansei Watari sat in the seat of honor by the window, a pen in hand, yet he wrote nothing, merely watching quietly.

Tanaka Naoki sat on the other side, hands clasped, knuckles white, Uesugi's little brother said nothing at all, he was nervous.

The door opened.

Kuwabara Mako walked in.

Kuwabara Mako was twenty-seven this year, a Police Sergeant, with an honest, simple face bearing some pockmarks and an airplane-head hairstyle, her expression currently holding a few parts bewilderment and nervousness.

Uesugi Muneyuki had sought him out late last night, asked him a few sentences about this case.

Case error, Uesugi Gu, there was definitely some problem.

Seeing so many people in the conference room, especially seeing Uesugi and Kansei, his steps paused for a beat, then he silently walked to a chair in the corner and sat down. But what's it got to do with me?

Immediately after, Takahashi Toshio walked in.

Takahashi Toshio, forty-eight years old, Patrol Sergeant.

His build was somewhat slimmer than Kuwabara's, wearing a crisply ironed uniform, hair combed meticulously. His gaze swept over everyone in the conference room one by one — Kinoshita, Kishimoto, Kansei, Uesugi, Tanaka — finally landing on Uesugi, lingering for a second, then moving away.

Last night, Uesugi Muneyuki had also sought him out, spoke about the deceased's family believing it was suicide, homicide, or lonely death, he answered truthfully.

"Very good, everyone is present." Uesugi Muneyuki walked to the window, back to the winter sunlight outside, facing everyone.

Sunlight outlined his silhouette from behind, letting his face hide slightly in shadow, only those eyes, startlingly bright.

"Everyone," his voice wasn't loud, yet fell clearly into each person's ears: "I've asked you all here today for one matter — the Suzuki Tadahiko inheritance disappearance case."

"I'll put it simply for you, it's just that Mr. Suzuki Tadahiko's family confirmed, he himself had 13 million yen in cash stored in the Buddhist shrine, and it's gone missing."

His gaze swept over the crowd, finally stopping in a certain direction.

"This case, from the surface, all suspicious points point to Inspector Tanaka — the last person at the scene, the one who took leave the next day, the one whose account has an extra sum of money."

Kinoshita nodded slightly — this was precisely their conclusion.

"However." Uesugi Muneyuki's tone shifted.

"Patrol Sergeant Takahashi, can you tell us, why did you frame Inspector Tanaka?"

Takahashi's expression finally changed: "What are you mumbling about?"

But before he could speak, Uesugi Muneyuki had already turned to the crowd, voice returning to that flat, academic-report-like tone: "Everyone, what I'm about to say may surprise you. But please hear me out."

He paused.

"Mr. Suzuki Tadahiko's 13 million yen in cash was indeed taken by someone. The person who took it wasn't Inspector Tanaka, nor was it Police Sergeant Kuwabara."

His gaze landed on Takahashi's face.

"It was Patrol Sergeant Takahashi Toshio."

The conference room fell dead silent.

Then, as if a switch had been pressed, discussion exploded with a boom—

"What?"

"It's Takahashi?!"

"How is that possible?!"

Kuwabara Mako's eyes widened, looking at this colleague she'd worked with for many years in incredulity, Tanaka Laodeng's mouth opened and closed, closed and opened, unable to utter a single word.

Takahashi, how could it be Takahashi?

We've already been colleagues for 26 years...

Supervision Officer Kinoshita stood up abruptly: "Chief Uesugi, what evidence do you have?!"

And the moment Uesugi Muneyuki's words fell, the conference room felt like all the air had been sucked out.

Takahashi Toshio sat in his chair, face cycling from dark-faced to pig-liver red, stood up abruptly—

"What nonsense are you spouting?!"

His voice was practically a roar, veins bulging on his neck, both hands braced on the conference table, whole body leaning forward, like a trapped beast driven to a dead end.

"Doctor Uesugi! You—you're framing me! You and Tanaka are in cahoots! You've known each other long ago! He showed you favor! Last night you suddenly came to find me... definitely colluded with Tanaka! You think I don't know?!"

He turned his head, looked at Supervision Officer Kinoshita, voice carrying a near-manic urgency: "Supervision Officer Kinoshita! Did you see?! This is collusion! This is planting evidence! They want a scapegoat, so they're putting the shit-bucket on my head!"

Supervision Officer Kinoshita's brow was tightly furrowed, he didn't speak immediately. His gaze moved back and forth between Uesugi and Takahashi, clearly also struggling to digest this sudden reversal.

"Patrol Sergeant Takahashi." Uesugi's voice remained calm, even carrying a faint trace of patience: "Sit down first."

"I won't sit!" Takahashi slammed the table hard, the sound exploding in the cramped conference room, making everyone shudder, "On what grounds do you accuse me?! What evidence do you have?! Just based on that mouth of yours?!"

He turned to the others, voice carrying a near-indignant accusation: "Everyone! I, Takahashi Toshio, have been a police officer for twenty-six years! Twenty-six years! From Patrol Officer to Patrol Sergeant, uncomplaining, never made a mistake! Why would I steal that money?! I—"

"Because you're short on money."

Uesugi Muneyuki's voice wasn't loud, yet like a basin of ice water, precisely poured onto Takahashi's rage.

Patrol Sergeant Takahashi froze.

Uesugi still stood by the window, hands in pants pockets, posture even somewhat casual. But his gaze never left Takahashi's face. "When Tanaka found me, I repeatedly asked him the full sequence of events."

"February 3rd, 2:20 PM, you entered Suzuki Tadahiko's scene." His voice steady like reciting an experiment report: "You entered the bedroom a step before Police Sergeant Kuwabara, opened that Buddhist shrine's drawer. What did you see inside?" Takahashi's lips moved, but no sound came out.

"13 million yen." Uesugi answered for him: "Bundle by bundle, stacked neat and tidy. Money the old man saved his whole life, prepared for his grandchild's study abroad."

He paused.

"Then, you didn't raise an alarm."

The conference room so quiet everyone could hear their own heartbeat.

Kuwabara Mako sat next to Takahashi, at this moment already frozen whole, she turned her head, looking at this old colleague she'd worked with for five or six years in incredulity, mouth opening and closing, closing and opening.

"You didn't lie, you indeed told the people outside, especially that guy Tanaka, saying 'there are a small amount of valuables in the Buddhist shrine'." Uesugi Muneyuki continued, tone still calm: "'Small amount' — this word was used cleverly. 13 million, to ordinary people is a huge sum, but for a Buddhist shrine drawer, indeed doesn't take much space. A shoebox could carry it away, right?"

Patrol Sergeant Takahashi's complexion changed another round.

You waited until the end. The forensics team left first, and you sent Patrol Sergeant Kuwabara away—perhaps you said, "You go wait in the car first, I'll double-check." Then only you and Police Inspector Tanaka remained.

Uesugi Muneyuki's gaze shifted slightly, landing on Tanaka Laodeng's face.

"But Inspector Tanaka didn't leave right away. He stood by the window, staring blankly for several minutes."

Tanaka Laodeng's eye sockets grew slightly warm. He knew what Uesugi was saying—those few minutes, he was thinking of his daughter, of the future, wondering if he too would die alone like Suzuki.

"Those few minutes were your chance." Uesugi Muneyuki's gaze returned to Takahashi's face: "You took the money from the drawer, placed it in the bag you'd prepared beforehand—perhaps your personal bag, perhaps your coat pocket. Then you left the scene calmly."

"You're talking nonsense!" His voice had lost its earlier strength, but he still struggled: "You're talking nonsense! You have no evidence! These are just your guesses!"

"I have evidence."

Uesugi Muneyuki's tone remained calm, but those four words were like four nails, driving Takahashi to the spot.

"Sebaceous gland sweat stains, spectrometer measurement." Uesugi said, "The banknotes had been in the old man's hand for a long time, his long-term sebaceous secretions adhering to the surface, forming a stable 'old layer.' But when you took the money, your hand repeatedly touched it—perhaps to count, perhaps to rebundle—leaving on top of that 'old layer' a fresh, high-concentration sebaceous sweat stain."

He paused.

"It's on the doorknob, inside the Buddhist shrine's drawer."

"Besides, there are other sweat stains still on those banknotes. Find the money, and you can extract your DNA." Takahashi Junchō's face turned completely white.

"And one more"—Uesugi pulled a small transparent evidence bag from his pocket, held it up so everyone could see the tiny gray-green lump inside—"Chewing gum."

It was a lump of hardened chewing gum, with some dust and fibers stuck to it.

"This was found among the scene's physical evidence, and investigators mistakenly thought it belonged to Mr. Suzuki." Uesugi Muneyuki said: "Mr. Suzuki Tadahiko is eighty-three, wears full dentures, and cannot chew gum. So, whose gum is this?"

"Patrol Sergeant Takahashi, you have a habit—you like chewing a certain imported mint gum. Your wife's sister in Southeast Asia often sends you this brand, unavailable domestically. This gum's menthol contains a special synthetic isomer, completely different from domestic gums." He held the gum higher.

"The menthol content here matches exactly what you usually chew."

Takahashi's body began to tremble slightly.

But he still struggled: "But… that doesn't prove it was me! Maybe I dropped it there by accident during my first inspection! I was at the scene during the first inspection too!"

"During the first inspection," Uesugi's tone remained calm, but with a hint of faint sarcasm, "you stood before the Buddhist shrine, opened the drawer, saw the money. Were you also chewing gum in your mouth then?"

Takahashi's pupils contracted sharply, his face drained of color.

The meeting room fell into dead silence.

Kuwabara Mako sat in the chair, his whole body seeming to have had its bones pulled out, his gaze fixed on Takahashi—within it was incredulity, shock, something deeper—perhaps disappointment, perhaps sorrow.

"Senior Takahashi…" he murmured, voice soft as a dream mutter: "You… you really…"

Takahashi Junchō didn't look at him. He just stared hard at Uesugi, lips trembling violently, wanting to speak but unable to say anything. Kinoshita Kanchō stood up, about to speak—

"There's one more thing."

The speaker was Kansei Watari.

He had been sitting quietly by the window since earlier, pen in hand, writing nothing. Now he stood, opened the briefcase always on the table, and took out a document.

It was a bank statement.

Kansei Watari gently placed the document on the table and pushed it forward.

"Before Patrol Sergeant Takahashi accused Doctor Uesugi of 'false accusation,'" his voice wasn't loud, but carried the prosecutorial calm that allows no objection: "I'd like everyone to look at this first."

Takahashi's gaze fell on the document.

His expression, in that instant, completely collapsed.

"At Doctor Uesugi's request, the Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office urgently conducted a preliminary financial check on personnel related to this case." Kansei's voice was flat, like reading a report: "Patrol Sergeant Takahashi Toshio, over the past three months, repaid a total debt of 2.4 million yen in three installments—including two credit card debts and one personal loan."

He paused.

"The repayment dates were February 5th, February 9th, and February 14th—namely, after Mr. Suzuki Tadahiko's inheritance went missing."

A stifled commotion broke out in the meeting room.

Everyone suddenly understood.

Kinoshita Kanchō sprang to his feet, quick-stepped to the table, grabbed the document, and scanned it rapidly.

His brows furrowed tighter and tighter, finally he lifted his head, looked at Takahashi—his gaze now held no caution or hesitation, only a cold, hard confirmation.

"Patrol Sergeant Takahashi." His voice sank like a stone: "Why?"

"You took the money—that's bad enough, but why…" Kinoshita Kanchō didn't finish.

His implication was: Why did you deliberately frame Inspector Tanaka? Weren't you colleagues for decades?

"Because Tanaka this guy, he cracked open the champagne halfway." Uesugi Muneyuki's voice rang again, still calm: "Had he already gotten some confirmation about his promotion, and couldn't wait to share it with you?"

Takahashi's body jerked violently.

Uesugi looked at him, his gaze holding no mockery, only a kind of near-pitying understanding.

"Inspector Tanaka—you know him. He's not the type to show off. But that day he was overjoyed—after thirty years of struggle, he finally became inspector. In front of you old colleagues, he said a few lines: 'Finally made it,' 'Please look after me from now on,' and mentioned he'd saved some private money, spoken without thought, heard with intent."

He paused.

"Right?"

"You're short on cash. You're buried in debt. You've been a police officer for twenty-six years, still just a patrol sergeant, no promotion in sight, retirement means little pension. Then you walked into that room, opened the drawer, saw 13 million yen, and Tanaka there was spacing out—so your mind suddenly had an idea: you could get this money, and also ruin Inspector Tanaka, condemn him to eternal damnation."

Uesugi's voice suddenly stopped.

The meeting room fell into terrifying silence.

Everyone stared at Patrol Sergeant Takahashi.

Jealousy, resentment, anguish—indeed, they could drive a veteran officer of decades to do this!